


The Manhunt

by Santokki_Sandara



Category: Block B, Winner (Band)
Genre: Depressed Mino and loving jiho, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, One Shot, Post-War, Sad tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6599863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santokki_Sandara/pseuds/Santokki_Sandara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mino is snow when Jiho is the fire - but Mino has had too much fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Manhunt

Then I widened the search,  
traced the scarring back to its source  
to a sweating, unexploded mine  
buried deep in his mind, around which  
every nerve in his body had tightened and closed.  
Then, and only then, did I come close.

Mino had always loved snow. Every single unique snowflake had fascinated him since childhood; how every one of them were their own, almost like a human being. What others found gloomy and intense, Mino found amusing. He could sit on the patio of his calm, suburban house every day during the crisp weather and stare at the snow forming a wall, as if to keep him out; he could contaminate the white sheet until snow wanted revenge and had sucked him in to be one with nature.   
Sitting in the middle of the postcard-perfect yard had become one of his favourite pastimes lately, almost like a hobby. He would let the white flakes consume him until he could hear the crisp noise each particle would make as they subsided. The serenity of snow made him feel somewhat comforted in ways that nobody or nothing else would. Snow was peaceful. Snow caused no harm, no protest, no war. Others didn’t understand snow; they gave him a second look every time he excused himself to gaze outside during a winded conversation. Snow never wanted conversation – Jiho did.

Jiho was the opposite of Mino; always warm, glowing, and full of joy and sympathy. His stare could melt off snow in a millisecond if he let it. He’d embrace anybody with open arms like a mellow hearth after a fight with the penetrating knives of the wind. He had a smile to heal every hurt and a laugh that could cure all disease.

Jiho was fire when Mino was snow – and Mino had had too much fire.

Sometimes, when he sat in the garden, cross-legged, alone and still, he would be taken to another time, as if being struck by lightning multiple times. Dark spots would form in his vision, accompanied by golden rings from the sun overhead. Then, it would be all red… there’d be no more dark spots and no more rings. It’d just be made up of red, as if watching life through 3-D glasses – only, he wasn’t just watching life. In his visions, he’d be holding a gun, striding through sand in worn leather boots. All around him, people would be shouting his name, but he was underwater, being pulled down and not being able to bounce back up. He’d feel his head shattering on the ground and a poignant taste of dirt. The visions were so vivid that he could have sworn they were real and that they’d happened. At times like this, he would forget that in fact, they were the reason Mino was home in the first place. 

Snow would conjure up his consciousness again and take him to the garden where Jiho would be shaking him frantically, begging him to step inside and eat something. But this time, Mino is underwater again. Jiho’s words are distorted and Mino feels as if he can’t break through the surface. His ankles are cuffed and chained to the bottom of the ocean except there is no life around him. With every attempt at asking for help, at reaching out, he only sinks deeper until Jiho’s words can’t be heard anymore. His heart is ready to rip out of his ribcage while his lungs are about to explode.

Now that he’s isolated at the bottom of the ocean, he brings his knees close to his chest and hugs them while a single tear rolls down his cheek. He doesn’t know how he’s able to tell the difference between the water surrounding him and his tears; he just knows that he isn’t suffocating anymore and the space around him isn’t pulling him down. He’s just existing in total darkness illuminated by overhead, florescent lights. Daring himself to perhaps expose one eye, he finds himself out of water and out of his own fantasy.

His heart drops at the thought that he isn’t alone when he feels warm a warm hand clutching onto his own and another running through his sweat-stricken hair. That smile is always there. The smile that melts snow and hugs the winter into spring is staring down at him with a bit of pity and relief. Mino squeezes back the other’s hand, trying to adjust himself to the beeping machines all around him. This isn’t his bed nor is it his house but Jiho is with him and Jiho is the final dare he took when he opened his eyes, he’s sure of it. 

Pneumonia, he tells him. The hours with snow has given him a disease. All this time, he has thought that the calm and the tranquillity of snow is what he lives for, but no, it’s actually the spring, the flowers and the warmth that Mino has stayed alive for. It might take a while for the snow in his heart to melt, but he has fire by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my coursework but my teacher refused to read it aftwr the deadline so I thought I'd share it with you guys. It's inspired by Simon Armitage's Manhunt. You can read the full poem here:https://poetryshark.wordpress.com/2015/07/19/the-manhunt-simon-armitage-poetry-analysis-gcse/


End file.
